The Villainess's Secret Bedroom Service
Chapter 137: I Love You

Chapter 137: I Love You

Damien’s sincere words had an uncanny ability to coax an awkward yet genuine smile onto Rosalie’s face. Her cheeks responded by taking on a subtle blush, akin to a delicate brushstroke of pink. The peculiar sensation lingered, for it remained somewhat unusual to witness the Duke engaging in such unrestrained conversation and openly baring his emotions. Yet, amid the peculiarity, there thrived an undercurrent of exhilaration, and just maybe, a sense of being uniquely cherished.

But before she could react to his words, Damien gently brushed her hair away from her neck and planted a few light kisses on it, tickling the girl’s sensitive skin with his hot breath. Slowly, the man’s big hand slid underneath the collar of Rosalie’s white shirt, moving it down in order to reveal her right shoulder.

His lips met her soft skin once again, gently leaving their marks as they moved down while his arms were pressing her closer to his own body. Lost in the moment, Rosalie began to melt under his loving touch until she finally felt a gentle bite on her shoulder which made her instantly turn around in order to voice a playful complaint.

Unfortunately for her, the duke was not willing to allow her to speak. The moment Lady Ashter’s face appeared in front of his, he swallowed her lips with unexpected greed as if he had been holding himself back all this time. But Rosalie did not mind it. In fact, now that she knew that her husband’s actions were sincere, she could not help but share his greed for one another. And just like him, she simply wanted to be with him, feel his touch, feel his presence.

Just like him, she simply wanted more.

With their lips still locked together, the duchess wrapped her arms around Damien’s neck and turned around, positioning herself on top of his lap. As their kissing intensified, she felt rapid tingles spreading all over her body and a pleasant warm sensation in the lower part of her stomach growing stronger.

The duke’s hands started moving down his wife’s back, sliding over the thin fabric of her clothes and gripping her waist with his fingers controlled by the strong urges of passion.

In no time, their clothes began to get looser as their hands were craving to feel the hotness of each other’s flesh. And despite the fresh, cooling sensation left by the touch of the sping breeze, the two of them felt nothing but heat, in both their bodies and hearts.

As Rosalie’s shirt was no longer covering her chest, Damien’s lips moved down from her neck, pausing briefly to trace the outline of her collarbones, and started gently kissing her breasts, igniting her passion even more with each enticing movement of his soft lips and tongue.

With the man’s tender yet ardent touch, Lady Ashter could not help but feel weaker with every passing moment. Her hands instinctively pressed against Damien’s head, drawing him closer, her long fingers wandering through his soft hair, digging into it during the occasional moments of the shuddering sensations that shook her entire body like an earthquake.

It was too enchanting to resist and Rosalie knew that she was ready to move forward but the duke desired her satisfaction more than his own.

With one swift, passionate movement, Damien pressed Rosalie’s body against the soft surface of the blanket and with his lips locking onto hers once more, moved his warm hand down her stomach and softly pressed it against her crotch, teasing her with a few subtle carcasses while enjoying her fervent attempts to release a moan.

Then, as if having decided to finally stop the teasing, he gently touched Rosalie’s most sensitive spot and started massaging it slowly at first, increasing the speed and intensity of his movements in response to the lady’s reactions.

Even after the long night of passion that they had experienced not so long ago, the pleasure enveloped Rosalie as if it was her first time – gasping for air almost desperately, she dug her nails into the blanket, feeling the soft layer of grass underneath it, and let the strong feeling of incomparable satisfaction wash over her akin to a relentless storm.

Pleased with such a reaction, Damien was about to proceed but this time, it was Rosalie who decided to take control.

Taking advantage of the duke’s defenseless state, she briskly mounted on top of him, pressing his strong shoulders against the ground, and grinned almost slyly, savoring her little victory over him.

Damien could not help but let out a short scoff – Rosalie was both incredibly seductive and cute and "losing" to her like this felt a thousand times better than winning in anything else.

Thus, savoring her husband’s "defeat", the lady began to move her hips, carefully observing Damien’s reaction. Apart from their first Acme exchange, it was always Damien who was in control, and as much as she enjoyed it, this time, she wanted to be the one who was in charge of their shared pleasure.

She, too, wanted to show him that she was in possession of a yearning that belonged solely to him. She wanted to show him that he, too, was just as loveable and desirable.

So they got lost in the moment again.

Perhaps it was the fresh wind that enveloped them with the sweet aroma of the blooming meadow, or maybe it was the feeling of previously unknown freedom that ignited their sensations. Or maybe it was simply the way things were supposed to be – two people madly in love with each other, craving each other, hungry for the affection they could only receive from the one they held in their arms.

But it was different once again. It was the way they wanted it to be. It was right.

Another refreshing gust of wind carried a loud symphony of gasps over the shimmering surface of the river as the couple melted into one another once more.

Panting heavily, Rosalie rested her chin on Damien’s heaving chest and looked into his sparkling yellow eyes – two gems that were locked on her blushing, smiling face, offering her a look filled with unparalleled love.

Once more, it appeared that words were superfluous; everything they wished to convey appeared to transpire as if by magic, etching itself into their consciousness when their gazes locked.

Yet, within this silent communion, there remained a solitary notion, a sentiment that demanded to be articulated aloud, for its true significance could only be imbued through speech.

"I love you, Rosalie."

As Damien uttered these tender words, a warm smile graced his lips, and his big hand gently traversed the terrain of his wife’s head, allowing his fingers to become ensconced within the silky, damp strands of her hair.

Initially, Rosalie hesitated, caught in the throes of disbelief, as if this surreal moment were but a dream. Her heart, though, longed to give voice to the truth that dwelled within. It was as if, when her gaze locked with Damien’s, a release valve opened, freeing her from the constricting grip of her emotions, and her heart, at last, seized the reins.

"Me too. I love you, Damien."